


A Sensitive Soul

by BixbiBOOM



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Turtle Tots, gratuitous use of erector sets and mechano, single fatherhood is rough and sometimes you gotta lay down the law
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 17:05:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11994171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BixbiBOOM/pseuds/BixbiBOOM
Summary: Young Donatello accompanies Splinter on a supply run alone after his brothers are grounded.





	A Sensitive Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written and posted in my private Livejournal in 2010, decided to make this my introduction piece to posting fic publicly. I had the 2k3 TMNT series in mind when I wrote this, but it works with any verse, really.

Going topside with Master Splinter was A Big Deal. Usually he went by himself, restricting the turtles to the lair and saying it wasn't safe for them above. On rare occasions, when it had been quiet up there for some time and the boys had been well behaved and obedient, he would allow them to join him, and they would forage the back alleys and landfills for anything useful. Keeping them close by his furry side, calling Raphael back when he would invariably go to "scout ahead", he would reiterate how important it was that they not be seen, how they should only take what they needed and nothing more, because they weren't the only ones who depended on others' garbage to survive, and because they needed to keep their loads light to make the quickest escape possible.

\---

Mikey had a short attention span, and got bored easily. Pulling pranks kept him entertained. Unfortunately, his pranks were often pulled on Raphael, who had a very short fuse and didn't like being the butt of jokes. When the bucket of water fell from the doorway and onto Raphie's head, Mikey giggled like crazy from behind the sofa where he was watching, giving away his position and cluing Raphael in (as if he didn't already know) to who was responsible. Raphael had bolted after him, chased him all over the lair, Mikey taunting him for being slow the whole way, right up until he stepped in the discarded bucket and fell. Raphael pounced, Mikey screamed, they scrapped, Father came running. The two jerked apart the moment his thunderous "BOYS!" ripped through the lair, but he had already seen them going at it. Raphael was sent to his room for fighting, as lecturing him was useless while his temper was flaring. Even as Mikey sniffled—both for being hit by Raphie and because he hated upsetting their sensei—he was lectured on not antagonizing his easily angered brother before being sent to his room as well.

Leonardo, always the rigorous leader, volunteered to stay behind to watch his brothers while Master Splinter was away, which left only Donatello to accompany their Father to the surface. And though Donnie did feel bad for his brothers, left behind and excluded and probably resenting Donatello for being able to go, he enjoyed the rare moments when he was alone with Father. As the quietest, most reclusive of the four brothers, it wasn't often he was able to capture his sensei's full attention. He walked by his master's side, and they didn't speak much because Donatello was happiest when he was speaking of circuitry and transmitters, things Master Splinter did not understand, but their silence was companionable, and sometimes Master Splinter would affectionately place a hand on the back of Donatello's shell, take his hand as they crossed a slippery pipe to the next juncture in the sewer. When they reached the surface, once they were certain they could speak without being overheard, they spoke of the night sky, the stars that could barely be seen through the haze of lights that burned around the clock and the moon hanging like a lantern in an ink-black sky. They spoke of the smells that couldn't be found belowground, and the humans that swarmed here—especially the humans. Father explained to son how humans were dangerous to them because they were different, how humans could hurt them, but that humans shouldn't be feared because they couldn't help their humanity. They were wonderful and brilliant and full of heart and passion and intellect, but even after ten thousand years were never able to rise above the time when they were not the ultimate animal, when "strange and different" often equaled "dangerous and deadly." He explained that there were some humans who would be able to accept them and their existence, perhaps even befriend them, but there were others who would want to study them like animals, hurt them, kill them, and for that they must always err on the side of caution and avoid human contact. But they shouldn't be hated, never hated, because they couldn't help what they had become. The one who smiles instead of rages is always the stronger.

When they came to a very long, narrow alley with a dead end, cut down the center of a strip mall, Master Splinter allowed Donatello to move further into the alley on his own, the better to peruse the dumpsters in good time. He dug through trash bags smelly with leftover Chinese food from a food court, which would have been delicious fresh but smelled of bitter ginger and souring chicken now, and found three thermal blankets still in their sealed packaging; he took one and left the other two on the ground in front of the dumpster for someone else who needed them to find. In the next dumpster, he found a discarded cooking pot, missing one handle and bearing a scorched bottom. He showed it to his sensei, who told him that the pot they had, though dented, was still useful; he set it down on the ground, another gift for the next forager.

Donatello moved down the length of the alley, working quickly and judiciously, sifting through the rubbish and leaving a line of gifts on the ground, practical things in good condition, things they had no need for but could provide comfort to another. In the very last dumpster, positioned against the dead end wall of the alley, Donatello found a trove of cardboard boxes festooned with full-color pictures and bright logos. Empty toy boxes, the cast-offs from display units in a toy store. He picked through the boxes, wondering idly what having a toy like this one or that one would be like, if the children who were given toys like these appreciated them, if they learned anything, if they cast them aside after a few hours of play, if they took them apart to try to put them back together. Halfway through the dumpster, he reached for a box and found it much heavier than the others. Pulling it to the top of the dumpster to investigate, the contents rattled. Somehow, an unopened box had found its way to the trash. A careless employee maybe, or perhaps it fell from a shelf and into a trash bin and no one thought to check it before piling more garbage on top. One side was slightly damp and warped from something leaking in the dumpster, but the tape over the seams was untouched. Donatello stared for a moment at the box, at the picture of the metal construction of a model helicopter, at the words ERECTOR SET emblazoned at the top and the sidebar of pictures highlighting the REAL ROTATING BLADES and the ACTUAL CIRCUITRY, and the tiny print at the very bottom that informed concerned parents that the model did not actually achieve liftoff.

Tucking the large box under one arm, he hopped from the dumpster and quietly approached his Father. He held the box up without a word, and Master Splinter peered at the box, at his son's hopeful expression, at the line of things his son had laid on the ground for others to find, and gave one short nod.

\---

Underground, Donatello helped Master Splinter carry the sacks, and they returned to the lair to silence. Michelangelo was still in his room with the curtain drawn, Raphael was in his with the door shut and the sounds of a ruthless pillow-punching emanating. Leonardo was sitting on a cushion in the middle of the living area, short little legs folded primly, wrists on thighs, palms turned up, eyes closed. To the untrained eye, everything seemed exactly as it should. Donatello, however, was an expert in his brothers' behaviors. Leo's bandanna was pulled slightly askew and one of his kneepads was set on the table, one seam ripped and awaiting repair. Raphie's punches were accompanied by vicious grunts of rage. There was no noise whatsoever coming from behind the curtain that shielded the alcove that was Mikey's room. While they were gone, something had happened, something that most likely involved Leonardo playing the leader, Raphael not liking it, and Michelangelo trying to smooth things over unsuccessfully.

Splinter didn't question Leonardo, left him to his meditation. They unpacked their new supplies, quietly put them away, and while Donnie scooped up his new toy and clutched it to his chest, Master Splinter told him quietly that he would be in his room if needed, and reminded him of their regular morning exercise in the dojo. Donatello nodded with a small bow, watched his sensei's retreating back as he made his way to his room, then turned and headed for his own, his "laboratory," as he preferred calling it.

He used a pair of scissors, with half of one blade snapped off, to slit the tape reverently, then carefully unpacked the contents, sliding out the foam insert, opening the bags inside and laying each metal bar side by side, arranged by height, width and shape. He tucked the empty bags back into the cut-outs of the foam, slid the foam back into the box, and picked up the building instructions. Regarding them curiously for a moment, he then tucked them back into the box as well, and slid it underneath his desk.

He worked diligently on his project, using all the pieces the set provided and pulling a few other things he'd collected from his shelves, dismantling them and incorporating the good bits into his new creation. He thought of Mikey as he worked, silent behind his curtain. He could be sleeping, but Donnie suspected not. Leo was stalwart and brave and obedient, Raphie dominant and strong, but Mikey was a sensitive soul. He would save portions of his own meals, surreptitiously tucking them into a napkin in his lap, to set out for the stray cats and sewer rats, even though Master Splinter told him that those animals were keen enough to find food for themselves. Their brothers fought, sometimes viciously, and it upset him. He would make jokes to calm the tension in the room, set himself up for stupid pratfalls, sometimes move right in between them and take a blow or two himself, all in order to restore peace. Donatello admired that in his little brother. He himself was a pacifist, preferring the use of wit and intellect to outsmart a foe, using defensive moves to wear one out during battle in order to lay him out with as little force as possible. It was the reason he favored the bo staff, the weapon with which one could perform the fewest offensive moves. Mikey was much the same, preferring a party to a battle, would rather turn an enemy into a friend than a conquest. He knew it might not be appropriate, might even be unfair, but Donatello thought maybe, somewhere deep down, Mikey might be his favorite brother.

Time passed unheeded, Donatello working steadily on his creation while the lair ticked on around him. Leonardo went to bed, Raphael came out of his room and puttered around in the kitchen fixing himself a late night snack and no doubt leaving dirty utensils in the sink for someone else to clean in the morning. He caught a whiff of sweet-smelling incense, which told him that Master Splinter was settling down for his nightly meditation before turning in. Still no sounds from Mikey.

At long last, Donatello sat back and looked at his creation. He pulled out the box to compare, eyes scouring the full-color picture of two human children, a boy and a girl, watching in amazement, clearly having great deals of enjoyment while watching the whirling blades of their mechanical helicopter. He looked to his creation, frowning in concentration. His metal structure looked nothing like the picture. His helicopter had, somewhere along the way, transformed into a remote controlled robot on caterpillar treads with mobile arms and grabbing claws able to hold up to seven pounds.

The children on the box would have much more fun playing with his robot, he decided.

Carefully, he picked up his creation and the control box he'd cannibalized from the remains of a toy car he'd found, cracked and shorted out, in the sewer, and padded out of his room. Walking quietly along the hallway, he stopped at Mikey's curtain, slowly drawing it back just enough to look inside.

"Mikey?" he whispered. "Are you awake?" From the darkness came a small noise of affirmation, quiet and sad. Donnie slipped behind the curtain as Mikey hit the switch on his electric lantern, filling the space with warm yellow light.

Mikey was lying in his hammock, ragged blankets bundled around him, all big blue eyes and soft frown. "Did you have fun?" he asked, and Donnie knew he was referring to his outing with their sensei.

"Yes," he responded, feeling guilty that Mikey hadn't been there to have fun as well. They looked at each other in an awkward silence for a few moments, and Donnie wondered if Mikey was jealous of him, if he was angry.

"They yelled while you were gone," Mikey said, and Donnie knew he was referring to their brothers. "Raphie called Leo a suck-up and a brown-noser, and Leo told him he shouldn't be so crude, and Raphie told him to blow it out his tailpipe, and Leo said he was going to tell Father, and Raphie pushed him, and Leo shoved him, and then they started hitting each other."

Donatello nodded. "Yeah," he said, "they do that sometimes."

"Yeah," Mikey agreed, "but I wish they wouldn't."

Donatello looked down at the robot in his hands, then held it out to Mikey. "Here."

"What's that?"

"It's something I made for you."

**Author's Note:**

> I've been having a rough time with my health lately and it's affecting my mental wellbeing as well now, so I decided to bring back one of the works I'm proudest of to start taking steps to better myself. Thank you for reading. :)


End file.
